Maria cut out a Sunday newspaper ad for a fancy, princess-like bedroom set. She said it was the room of her dreams.

"That is a really nice room, but we can't get that for you right now. Maybe one day.''

"But mom, you can do like the commercial says, you don't have to spend another dollar. It's what the retailers don't want you to know.''

I know I can be an over-thinker. And, my "ethnic-ness" and my journalism background have combined to make me Queen PC. I don't like talk that hurts or excludes others.

So, imagine my "oh boy!'' when the melodic, beautiful voice of actress Cherry Jones spewed through the CD speakers:

"The only good Indian is a dead Indian!''

A few weeks ago, a 5-year-old friend of Maria's spent the night with us. They played dress-up, they danced, they played musical instruments, and they even read to each other before bedtime. It was the loveliest of evenings, and I so enjoyed listening in on them as they chattered.

And while I had worried there might be typical girl trouble, the two got along famously. I didn't have to stick my nose into their business even once. Maybe that is because this friend is a pretty laid-back kid. I was shocked a few times when I asked her do to something – like wash her hands before dinner and brush her teeth before bed – and she actually went and did it. No questions asked. No delay tactics.

It is the sad truth – I went into this season a little Scrooge-y. Too much work, too much recession, too much news about friends loosing jobs. And, to top it off, too cold for Tennessee. If my husband and daughter had not gone into the attic to fetch Christmas decorations, I may have left them up there yet one more season.

Horrible, I know. The mother of a 5-year-old isn't allowed to cancel Christmas.

There was a story in the paper a week or so ago about the "heart home.''

It is the place you think of as "home'' even if you haven't lived there in a long, long time.

I have lived in a handful of places, and this year marked my 17th in Nashville, which means I have lived here one year longer than I did my heart home, Miami, the city of my childhood and where I have spent more Christmases than anywhere else.